Staring Dead At Suicide
by writedrunkeditsober
Summary: She was completely insane but maybe I was wrong and just scared to see death look me in the eye while I couldn't blink, I was selfish but she was senseless and it was hard to see the difference.
1. When you get home you're so dead

**Ok so I sort of got this idea from a tumblr head cannon post and figured I'd kind of bring it to life, it's pretty hard since both characters are kind of hidden and you're starting from scratch but I tried to convey them how I saw them before certain events. It's pretty short which I'm not happy with but anyway, yeah enjoy (:**

Sometimes when I get on balconies I get the urge to jump, from out of nowhere, and I wonder how it would feel to fly for that little bit before I died. Then I realize I would never do it, not for real anyway. It wouldn't be because of the pain, I'm not scared of the pressure of the air hitting me or the splat on the pavement at the bottom. It is because I could never go that way, being the only reason I broke a bone or stopped my breath. I could never kill myself, it's like putting on eyeliner, you're aiming this long sharp pencil towards your fragile eye and at any moment your hand could move and you could jab yourself right in the cornea. Now you're blind, which is why I don't wear makeup.

You see it coming and who in any state of mind would want to see death coming, even with a gun towards your head you close your eyes in fright to block the sight of pain, to hide the finger on the trigger so that you don't know when the small piece of metal is coming for you. So when I thought about it while leaning towards the view of the big buildings and busy streets and contemplated throwing myself over I wasn't even scared of the possibility, I knew it would never happen. Suicide wasn't common in the Capitol, how could it be? The people had everything they could have ever wanted, everything they needed was imported from the other districts and they were never short of supplies.

Sure I might have considered killing myself too if I looked as freakish and overdramatic as the residents in this big freakish overdramatic city but it wasn't me and it surely wasn't in my blood. At least, that's what I believed before I found myself here now listening to my sister proclaims her death wish to me. She was truly beautiful, too beautiful to want to die, with beauty like that you could have things delivered to your feet with a few eye blinks and a twirl of your hair. Her hair was darker than mine but still very red and she had my mother's eyes, while I was given my father's bright blue ones. She had this voice silkier than silver in its liquid form, the type of gray that glistened and it rang melodically when she spoke.

"You're insane." It was hard to take anything she was saying seriously, my voice was bored and not persuaded because I only hoped she was kidding.

"I'm serious, really serious! We can do it, it's stupid here and they're all horrible and you know it. They kill innocent people all the time and I'm not going to stay around, I don't even know why that old bastard has ruled this long." Even in whine her voice was so lovely my nerves didn't boil like they should have, she had the gift of tongue, she could convince you anything and you would believe it, every time.

"It's because he's weak, Lavinia, he's weak but he's got all these people making him strong, and they're all working out in his favor so could you shutup about this and stop being so unrealistic."

Her eyes grew wide and her lips puckered, "Atlas thought it was a good idea."

Suddenly the want to jump off of the balcony came over me again and my stomach felt a rush I couldn't put down. I could already feel the burn of flames from a fire that I knew wouldn't blow out. _Atlas thought it was a good idea._ If anything I wouldn't have expected that my older, much stronger and far wiser than any of the children my mother had bred; would agree to something as stupid as defying the Capitol. I wasn't grasping the idea of it and I honestly thought I was dreaming, which would have been a better fate if I had a choice because this was far more than real, this was serious.

They were going to run away, together, my successful brother and my shy sister, both smart and attractive and safe people were going to throw that away? Here in the Capitol you were safe, you had everything set out for you on a silver platter, including the option to spare your life with not competing in any cruel murdering games. They wanted to ruin that. I had more conviction in my own flesh in blood.

"Well he was wrong; it's stupid and get it out of your thoughts. If mom heard any talk of that she'd blow her head." Maybe that was a good choice, mentioning my poor old mother, surely the two didn't plan on telling her of any of this preposterousness.

"It's not stupid! It's necessary. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life under this tyranny? I'd rather die." She lied, she was just like me.

"Haven't you even thought about the consequences? What if you get caught Lavinia? You'd be better off dead now than letting the big bad wolf do it." And suddenly I was nauseous and now even her pretty little voice couldn't calm my nerves, it was obvious this wasn't a gag and I had to play the older sibling role that I wasn't, but I found myself constantly having to be clever around my home for anything to work.

"We won't get caught."

My bed was comforting against my thin pajamas and I sat up to stare at her with all the intensity I could find in my body where normally I was the one that remained nonchalant in tough situations. "Are you serious? Or stupid? Or both?" all that had gone to hell, "You don't have to get caught for things to happen Lavinia! What about dad? He's can't even walk and you're planning on running away? And taking Atlas with you? You're leaving us all here to die; because we _will_ die oh he'll make sure of it. We'll be lucky to get shipped off to another district if he doesn't have our heads!" saying his name was never necessary, we had enough conversations about him already to know who we were referring to. An old white haired man on a pedestal that smelled of blood and roses and dressed in white like snow, he was as cold as his name, and that was about as deep as it got.

I could not tell if I had hurt her or finally got the letter through but she looked at me with her same deer eyes spaced out long and opened wide. I hoped it finally settled in and she became cognizant of the danger she was putting our family in while we were about as safe and comfortable as we could get in the society. Running away, she was setting us up for death and herself up for failure, she was crazy.

It was a different kind of crazy though, the crazy that swam from ambition and danced through the face of fear, the type of crazy that rose from justice and hoped for gain, that was the type of crazy my sister was when she planned to run away. She was completely insane but maybe I was wrong and just scared to see death look me in the eye while I couldn't blink, I was selfish but she was senseless and it was hard to see the difference.

"We're leaving tomorrow, with or without you." I had never heard her voice to stern, and I still believed her.

In a couple of hours I would wake up to a letter placed on my old oak dresser passed down from my grandmother, and with my mother dripping tears at the table. In a few weeks I would get banished to District 5 with a guaranteed spot in the 74th Annual Hunger Games in revenge of my sister and brother's rebellious escape. In a few months I would never be able to hear my sisters sweet musical voice while conscious, but as for tonight all I could do was close my eyes and say my prayers under my soft bed sheets and hope that my death is the most silent incognito passing there could be.

**Yeah so basically Lavinia and Foxface were sisters and the boy that died when Lavinia was captured is their brother, and when President Snow found out he forced Foxface to participate in the Hunger Games and stuff so yeah I tried to do some foreshadow on the whole berries thing I hope this isn't too far fetched, but then again it wouldn't be fanfiction if it wasn't xD R&R**

**-Chelsea**


	2. I'd rather die

**Well I was kind of planning on just keeping the story at a /oneshot; so I pretty much spoiled some of it in the last chapter but I felt the need to continue it because I have some plans for it, yep. So this is basically where Foxface is taken, she's not sure why but all signs point to President Snow and probably her sister. **

It was faster than a bullet, the kind of pain that strikes you so quickly but depending on where it's hit you, let's you bleed out slowly. The scream you would make at the tear of your skin, a slow brutal death I would never want to encounter, the knock was louder than that. Four in the morning there was a banging at the door. It's not normal to have someone knock on your door at four AM, it's either those slow quiet knocks that make you cautious and scared, or those really loud and obnoxious knocks that only mean trouble.

My brother and sister had merely left weeks ago so I could not blame my mother for her consistent grieving. All day she would sit in the green chair in the living room that matched with nothing but she kept it anyway because it had been her father's, my grandfather's, but I don't remember ever knowing him. She kept the television on for noise, for a sense of voice and company because my father was even farther gone now then he was before, and me, I was muted to them now. She never watched it though, she always had a brown knitted blanket wrapped around her and she'd sit in that damn chair and stare at that damn television but she never watched it. She looked past it like there was something more, she spaced out and whenever I tried to speak to her, well I couldn't count on a response.

I wonder if she would die from it, like static shock, like that whole scared to death theory that someone's heart could just stop. Maybe the loss would kill her and she just wouldn't wake up that day, I really wouldn't be surprised. Then there were those rare moments when she noticed I was sitting there on the yellow couch to the right and she'd call me over and she put her hands around me and held me like I was the only thing left in the world, which, with putting her life in perspective, I probably was. It killed me to see her like this but I couldn't help but hate her at the same time, she had lost all of her children, because I too was getting lost in the silence of the old home.

This day had been the same and at eight o'clock on the dot she was asleep in her bed, probably, and so was I. That knock at the door didn't do my insomnia any justice. My feet were bare and my back was covered in soft silk that rubbed smoothly against my skin, it was about the only thing that still glistened in the house. You're not supposed to open the door to strangers, especially not random middle of the morning strangers without enough consideration to the people sleeping, that's what I was told. I was told many things and I've learned and read so many things that have guided me and led me to believe my siblings where two of the most dedicated and trippy people in the world, and my father was a crippled wreck, and I wasn't really sure exactly what I was while I sat in the middle of this.

My hand gripped the doorknob and I got the strangest feelings, people call it a hunch, when your body senses something and you should really go with it. It was a sting that danced through my wrist and scurried through my whole body and I quickly let go of the knob, backing away like it was trying to kill me, and if I hadn't been wrong in the past my whole being would have believed it was. Everything told me to walk away and try to sleep again, it would have been the better choice after all but far too unlikely, and I wish I would have gone with it. I probably would have, I guess that fate will never be sure because my mother walked into the room right after with her eyes red and tired and her body short and thin and her red hair in a mane around her head.

She was very pretty; she looked like Lavinia too much for her too look at her reflection anymore, she was also very blank. She stared at the door but her eyebrow didn't rise in curiosity and her lips didn't part to speak. I was beginning to think she was fully incapable of anything but breathing. She nodded her head, it was a soft nod where her neck barely rose but I noticed it. In these few weeks and the past years with my father I was completely trained in noticing the little things. Against my better judgment I went towards the door, and before I could even finish the twist they came, all faster than a bullet.

My ears couldn't take it. They had adapted to the constant silence in the house. There was chanting, some form of chanting, but I had blanked it out with fear that I've never felt before. This doesn't happen in The Capitol, right? The Capitol was the only safe place in Panem, you did not fight, you did not get hurt, you could leave peacefully and alone and no one would even notice your existence. You could hide. But it was happening, all too loud and quick and scary for my eyes.

They had big suits on, not the type of business suits, not suits people wear to the games every year, it was like a uniform. Their voices where really deep, or I think they were, when they spoke it come off as a stretched out moan, like a slow motion version. I stood by and watched it happen in my very silky pajamas. I wondered if I was going to die now, I almost hoped I did, I hoped someone would get me from behind so I didn't have to watch anymore, so I didn't have to see what happened next.

No one did, and I was still very much alive when they grabbed my mother. Her fragile body was pushed to that green chair she sat in every day and I saw her smell it, like she knew she never would again. Her eyes were redder now, but not from sleep, from tears. Her mouth was open and her piercing screams and yells stabbed my ears. Still I couldn't move, I just stood there watching my mother be manhandled and cuffed. She looked at me; she did it for the first time since Livinia left and I wondered why she had avoided my gaze for so long. I couldn't decide whether it was because I reminded her so much of my elder sister, or because I reminded her of herself. Whatever the reason be, this time her eyes held more than a blank stare.

They held fear. Her screams held anger and pain and remorse, and worst of all, revenge. It felt good to see her alive again, even with the horror of the moment that provided it. I was surprised I hadn't been touched yet, or maybe I had been, I couldn't tell. From my view though I was unmovable and put into a scene where I could see everything but I wasn't really there, I wasn't. Everything was breaking. The purple vase that decorated the frame around the fireplace had hit the floor and shattered, the little pieces of glass roaming around the wood floor. The little coffee table that separated the seating and the television had been flipped over and everything that was happened around me was still so slow that I could see the bottom legs of the table fly for that split second before it hit the ground again.

I thought maybe it was a dream and just waited for it to end; it wasn't though, to my dismay. Two of them, those monsters that called themselves human beings had appeared from the hallway and their hands clenched under the arms of my hanging father. Something in me snapped, it was the kind of hate and pain I felt that day five weeks before when two people walked out of my life and risked it at the same time. I lunged for them like a madman and I lost my head in the process. Everything was fast now and their evil voices where clear. "Get her!" I suppose I was about to be gotten. My screams were glass breaking and inhumanly when I ran forward to my father, to those beasts.

I had no plan whatsoever when I always did. I was not the type of person to wing things like my sister was; I had to have a plan for everything, and a backup. I was not the type of person to go with the wind; I could never be a leaf and fly around with no control over where I was going. I never really understood people like that who had no response to anything, those types of people who did whatever just because with no thoughts of the consequence, those people where setting themselves up for inevitable death. And this ambush, that was inevitable as well, but I liked to believe otherwise.

My small body was at the man now, angrily punching at his uniform. My face was red while I chanted things to him, not fully aware of my words. "he-barely walk! Are-stupid-die-why-here!" my voice was cut off and my words where slurred and all I knew for sure was I was fuming and I was beating on something, and then at the same time there were hands around my waist grabbing me and lifting my feet off the ground. I could never imagine the world without gravity, where everyone was just floating around and no one could feel the ground under them. It would be horrible to be swimming in the sky paddling at air for travel; I would have wished to die from lack of oxygen. So quickly had the yells went from faint chants to whispers and so suddenly had the brightness of the lamps in my home gotten dimer and dimer. It felt like I stopped breathing as I fell to sleep in the man's arms, no, I shall not call him a man, no man does this.

I've woken up in cold many times. Our heater during the winter was not exactly reliable and I'd spent many days an icicle trying to unfreeze under quilts and knitted blankets. I remember the five of us, that is, my parents and brother and sister, huddled up around that burn marked fireplace and burned whatever wood Atlas could find and just sat there. We would talk, we were the type of family to tell each other everything so that one secret kept silent for too long would ruin us, and it surely did. By now I was used to the cold, so waking up slightly wet and freezing wasn't as horrifying as it would have been for the normal person, then again from what I could last remember waking up at all was completely horrifying.

I rose up fast and my breaths were wheezing in my chest, I was moving, I could tell by the shake of the ground. I was on the floor and my silk pajamas were stuck to my skin in sweat, which was odd because of how cold it was. That was the least of my worries though, and where exactly I was wasn't number one either. My parents; that was the problem. My old desperate parents who honestly couldn't take much more, that was my problem. I got up fast to my feet and ran into the dark space ahead of me, but there was no one else, there was only a wall and a sizzle in my feet that rippled in sharp pains.

I could feel a door; I knew it was a door because I could feel a handle. It was long and pressed back like the type on trains, I've never ridden one before but I knew enough about them. The train was the biggest form of transportation in Panem and people rarely went on it, I read about it, I fantasized about it. It was weird but I always wondered what it would be like to ride one, where did they stop, what was at the end of the tracks? I never actually thought I would, and if I could of imagined it any more I surely don't believe I would have pictured it like this, dark and daunting filled with the type of air you've rebreathed so much that it lacks more and more oxygen with each breath. I really didn't want to know what lurked when this train stopped, or if it stopped, for all I was aware of it could keep going forever.

Shaking and tossing and vibrating with the tracks, in the dark, never to stop. I'd die eventually from starvation if I didn't start eating myself beforehand, but even with that I'd bleed out. Everything, even sitting in a safe padded cell, had room for death. It was inevitable. I'd rather the train crash then try to hold out if I knew it would never stop, or it get burned with me in it, but I'd never start the fire. I could never kill myself, to burn, to parish slowly from flames to ashes, to feel the heating sensation against your skin was just another awful way to die.

I desperately pulled at the handle trying to turn it in which way directions, I slammed against it and screamed, I nearly begged, before I had sunk down with my back leaning full weighted again one of the walls of the cart. My breathing was spaced out and agitated and I did wonder if breathing was something I was actually doing. My hair was messy I could tell, it swayed around my head like my mother's did, almost like a shield. My face was probably as red as my hair because I could feel the sizzling heat burning through them, but my face remained dry as I picked the little pieces of glass out of my feet. I winced at each pull; I hadn't even noticed that I stepped in the kicked around glass of the broken vase when I attacked those men at my house. I was so full of anger and hate that I couldn't feel anything, not even the needle shot on my neck that stung with air pressure.

I could see parts of my feet now as a long thin line of light came from the side of the cart, the window gleamed with dawn and my guess was right. I was moving and the train hadn't stopped in speed, my bellowing had been ignored by whoever else boarded the train with me and I was utterly alone to await my death. I really hoped they'd kill me now, I couldn't bear to see where I was heading, I couldn't bear to see death stare me in the eye and tease me slowly, but this wasn't about me anymore. This was about my sister, my brother, my parents, this was about survival not death. I hugged my legs close to my chest and wondered how many hours I slept and what had happened, I wondered where my parents might be and if they were still alive. Their hearts where strong, that was for sure, even if their bones were weak.

The last thousand thoughts I'd had made me think of all the reasons I'd want to die right now, of all the situations where death was a horrible yet probably best option, but this one did not fall into that category. All I could help thinking while my head dropped to the corner of the room and the train cart illuminated, all I could help thinking while the cuts in my feet bled and burned was if I cried back then at home. I wondered if I'd cried when I saw those men grab my father the way they did, and I had hoped not, because as of now no one would see that happen. Don't let them see you cry, _don't._

**Ok so yeah I hope you liked it (: I've been trying to make different type of death occur in each chapter, last chapter were situations where you see death coming/don't see it coming and how Foxface would want to die (also notice how I haven't really said her name because I don't even know what I would name her) and this chapter was basically situations where she'd rather die then endure her surroundings. So yep, R&R**


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